


the wormcat delivery service

by lightbeams



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Drowning, Tired Bang Chan, minho doing questionable shit and chan losing ten years of his life whenever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:08:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27340981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightbeams/pseuds/lightbeams
Summary: Welcome to the Wormcat Delivery Service! We run all and any errands, at any price you name! Just leave your request on this enchanted note or contact Lee Minho (Gryffindor) and we’ll get back to you in some time!In which Bang Chan finds himself roped into the weird shenanigans of fifth-year Gryffindor Lee Minho, whom he sincerely wishes would use a little more of his capable braincells to keep himself out of danger.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 58
Kudos: 337





	the wormcat delivery service

**Author's Note:**

> [ 1 ] minor disclaimer that i made up a lot of things along the way so hogwarts supremacists please spare me 
> 
> [ 2 ] the characters don't automatically call their elders 'hyung' since this is set in hogwarts/britain! 
> 
> [ 3 ] tw: descriptions of drowning! please be careful when reading (it's the errand with the giant squid, you can skip the entire part!)
> 
>  ~~it's november already but~~ happy minchan-tober! :D

To be fair, Chan only had himself to blame on being dragged into somebody else’s business.

He wasn’t paying much attention when the boy on the bed to his right in the hospital wing casually brought up his business model and invited Chan to join him as a ‘business partner’— hell, he was ordered to be on overnight bed rest after he’d gotten his broken left arm healed, so it wasn’t really his fault that he got a bit woozy and wasn’t really listening!

Chan only realised what he’d randomly hummed in agreement to when the boy beamed at him enthusiastically, despite being wrapped up in bandages on his head, ribs and arms.

 _Got these when I was trying to save my cat Dori off a tree,_ the boy had proudly boasted to him hours ago, and then he’d launched into a whole story about his cats, and how he’d needed to feed his cats, so he was going around running errands for people and— _god._ Chan doesn’t know why he remembers all this.

“Yay!” The boy cheered then, albeit slightly monotonously, lips twirling into a triumphant grin as he glanced at Chan once, then back at the ceiling. “So now that we’re business partners, we need to give the business a name, y’know? I like cats, so we’re definitely having cats in the name, and you look like a worm, so I think we should also…”

Chan had shut his eyes and internally sighed.

Lee Minho.

That was the name of the fifth-year Gryffindor hospital wing chatterbox that kept him up all night.

At least his left arm was completely healed by the morning.

  
  


✧

  
  


Chan doesn’t actually meet Lee Minho again, until a week later, when he bumps into said boy in the Slytherin common room.

They make eye contact, and if Chan was any less perceptive, he would’ve missed the way Lee Minho’s eyes widen in relief, just for a split second.

“Bang Chan!” Minho instantly yells, _way_ too loud for his liking, causing a few eyes to turn his way as he hustles across the dimly lit room towards Chan. 

Chan doesn’t even get an opportunity to say anything or startle or even wonder _when the fuck did they even become friends_ before Minho links their arms together, still yelling, “you didn’t tell me you’d be late! It was so awkward waiting here by myself!”

“We were—” he starts, and then Minho shoots him an Look with such intensity that he backtracks and instead says, “I’m sorry?”

“You should be,” Minho frowns, and he sounds so serious that Chan even starts doubting himself. 

_Did he agree to meet up with Minho and forget about it? Was this when they were both in the hospital wing?_

Minho’s grip on his arm tightens. “Everyone is staring at me,” he hisses, softly. “How do I make them stop?”

“Of course they’re staring, you’re a Gryffindor in _our_ common room,” Chan frowns, “you shouldn’t be here.”

“Make them stop,” said Gryffindor whines, tugging on his arm, eyebrows furrowing and lips slowly turning into a pout. “Please? I have to be here. I can’t be thrown out.”

Chan sighs.

(Little does he know that _that_ would mark the first of many sighs to come.)

He pulls off the scarf he’s wearing; it’s one of those boring, school-issued House scarves he’s kept around since his first-year, a green and silver knit. 

Then he turns, a little— and this is slightly difficult because the Gryffindor is still holding onto him— and loops his scarf around Minho’s neck, effectively hiding his maroon-lined Gryffindor robes from prying eyes.

“Wow,” Minho grins, blinking owlishly at his new outfit. “A Slytherin being nice to me, a lowly Gryffindor. Never would’ve imagined.” 

“A Gryffindor sneaking into the lowly Slytherin dungeons,” Chan shoots back, “never would’ve imagined.”

Minho laughs, then, and Chan finds it hard to not smile along.

“So,” Chan says, leading them away from the bustling common room and towards the dorms. He knows some of the first-years are ending Potions soon, so the room would only get more crowded, “why do you have to be here?”

Minho blinks. And then, “oh! Well, if you remembered my business proposal, I actually started working on it, so I enchanted some pieces of parchment so whatever written on them would be reflected on _my_ piece, and I had some friends tack it to the common room noticeboards—”

“Straight to the point, Minho, please.” 

“I got a job,” Minho huffs, pulling out a note from his sleeve. “Here, read it yourself.”

> **_Errand:_ ** _Please help me retrieve my Potions textbook from my dorm before class._
> 
> **_From (Name/Year/House):_ ** _Kim Seungmin (3rd year, Slytherin)_
> 
> **_Price:_ ** _I’ll babysit your cat when you need._

“Seungmin?” Chan knows Seungmin, he’s a bright-eyed, smart boy that Chan had instantly taken a liking to because he thought he looked innocent and pure. Now he knows better, though. “You know him?”

“I am going to _un-know_ him,” Minho grumbles, folding his arms. “He thinks I only have _one_ cat!”

“You have more than just Dori?”

Minho glares at him.

“I’m sorry,” Chan automatically says, raising both hands in surrender. 

“You’re 56 percent forgiven,” Minho replies, rolling his eyes. “Only because you actually remembered Dori’s name, and also because I’m in a rush. You know where’s Seungmin’s dorms? We gotta get that Potions book.”

Chan wonders, for a rather brief moment, why Seungmin couldn’t have gotten the book himself— if he recalls correctly, the third-year had an entire free period before Potions. 

He glances over at Minho, whose lips are slightly parted in awe as his gaze fixates on the knock-off aquarium, as Chan likes to call it, along the corridor stretch leading into the dorms. 

Having walked along this glass-walled path separating the Great Lake from the Slytherin dungeons for six years, Chan can’t help but tease Minho’s wide-eyed wonder.

“Never seen the Great Lake from this angle before?” 

Minho clamps his mouth shut, and glares at him again. “Bang Chan, hurry up, please.” 

“You can just call me Chan,” he blurts out, picking up his pace. “Or hyung, if you want.”

Chan almost retracts his words when he turns around and Minho looks at him like he’s crazy; but it lasts only a brief moment and the Gryffindor grins and shuffles forwards to catch up. 

  
  


(“I’m not delivering this to him,” Minho had insisted, after they’d retrieved Seungmin’s book— it didn’t take them long to find, given that it was placed right on his bed. “Chan-hyung can do it.”

“This is your—”

“We’re business partners, remember? This is the _Worm_ cat Delivery Service. Speaking of which, you should also have one of these enchanted notes.” 

And that was how sixth-year, most-likely-to-be-Head Boy Slytherin Bang Chan spent his free period delivering a Potions textbook to Seungmin, much to the interest and curiosity of all the other third-years. 

“Oh, it’s you, hyung,” Seungmin had cryptically commented then, smirking as he tucks the book under his arm, ignoring all the whispering going on. “Good luck with Minho-hyung, you’ll need it!”

Chan had sighed. Then he’d pulled out the enchanted note that he was given, and wondered what would appear next.)

  
  


✧

> **_Errand:_ ** _Hyung someone scattered all my stuff all around the school if you’re free can we go look for them together_
> 
> **_From (Name/Year/House):_ ** _Changbin_
> 
> **_Price:_ ** _5 galleons??_

“ _Five_ galleons.”

Minho nods, smiling serenely. “Changbin’s loaded, he has chandeliers in his house!”

Chan snorts. He doesn’t have the heart to tell Minho that he, too, has chandeliers decorating their ceilings back home. 

“Changbin said he wanted to go look for them with you, though,” he points out, instead. 

Minho snorts. “Well, _I_ don’t want to go look for them with him.”

They’re in the Great Hall, seated by the edge of the Hufflepuff table; Minho’s logic was that if he sits at the Slytherin table, he’ll be stared at, and if Chan sits at the Gryffindor table, he’ll be stared at, so they might as well be stared at together by sitting at a House table that was neither of theirs.

It was strangely logical. Chan was vaguely impressed. 

Although, he can’t help asking, “this Changbin guy couldn’t use a Summoning spell instead?” 

Minho doesn’t even hesitate when he says, “maybe he’s stupid or something, who knows.”

Chan thinks this Changbin isn’t actually stupid. He doesn’t even know Changbin. But there really isn’t much reason for him to engage Minho’s errand-running services for something as small as _locating things,_ if not to just play along with the Gryffindor’s whims.

_That’s kinda hypocritical of you, you’re playing along too, Bang Chan._

He sighs, then leans back, folding his arms. “Did he at least give you a list of items he lost, then?”

Minho perks up, and pulls out a list from his sleeve. Chan leans over to look at it; there’s only three items written on the parchment. 

“This won’t take that long then,” he comments.

Yeah, no. Chan was wrong.

  
  


Three hours later, they’d only managed to find Changbin’s shoes (tied and looped around one of the tree branches edging the Forbidden Forest), and his Gryffindor scarf (wrapped around the neck of one of the suit of armors lined along the corridors to the Fat Lady).

The last item that they couldn’t find was Changbin’s plushie. Changbin had described it in his list as _something with cat ears, blueish-green in colour except for the mouth and the chest, you know what it is, Minho-hyung, you gave it to me._

“We really can’t use _Accio?”_

“No!” Minho frowns, crossing his arms. “Stop trying to cheat, we have to do this _organically.”_

“We’re literally wizards, Minho,” Chan reminds him.

“Not all of us have the blessing to use magic whenever we wish for all our minor inconveniences,” Minho shoots back, stomping off. “You pure-blooded gremlins are the worst!”

Chan blinks. _Well, that’s interesting._

And then he sighs, following after Minho; they’re on the empty Quidditch pitch, and Chan trails after Minho as he angrily walks to the middle of the pitch and lies down there, glaring at the sky.

“Let’s take a break,” Chan suggests, sitting down beside him. “And you can tell me more about your other cats.”

After a moment, Minho snorts, and tilts his head up to look at Chan. “You’re not angry that I called you a pure-blooded gremlin?”

Chan smiles wryly. “You’re not entirely wrong. Some of us can be gremlins.”

“You’re the weirdest Slytherin I’ve ever met,” he concludes, lying back down. 

“Much to my parents’ pride,” Chan jokes. The way Minho is lying rather contentedly on the grass somehow makes it look rather inviting, even though Chan knows it’s going to be a nightmare to get off his robes later.

Minho seems to have read his mind, because he looks up again, and comments, “they won’t be proud of you if you lie down on grass?”

Chan snickers. “No, they won’t,” he says, but lies down, anyway. “Not very Head Boy behaviour, they would say.”

The grass tickles at his exposed hands and ankles; but there’s something rather soothing about the way his back’s against the ground, facing the vast infinite sky.

“Too bad for them, then,” Minho says. “Now you’ve laid down on grass _and_ you’re gonna be Head Boy. Boohoo. Terrible news.”

“That’s actually _if_ I become Head Boy next year.”

Minho turns to look at him. His gaze is piercing. “You don’t think you’ll be?”

Chan remains silent. _I want to be._

“I think someone else can do it better,” is what he replies evenly, instead. 

Minho laughs, then, and Chan glances over, confused; Minho laughs so hard he’s rolled over on his side, clutching at his stomach. 

Chan frowns. “What’s so funny?”

“No way,” Minho chokes out, in between breaths. “You want Hogwarts to fall into ruins?” 

Chan’s used to high praises, comments that place him on a pedestal higher than he thinks he can reach. He’s grateful for the faith and trust that his peers and professors have in him, but most of the time he wonders if their faith is just misplaced.

Chan’s just Chan. He’s not anyone special. And somehow, Minho’s not-compliment is rather reassuring.

He allows himself a small smile. “You think Hogwarts won’t fall into ruins under me?”

Minho very elaborately scans him from head to toe, then suggests, “maybe not to total ruin? Even if Hogwarts _does_ fall to some ruin with you as Head Boy, it would be exciting to see, though.” 

Chan lets out a bark of laughter. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Then, referencing Minho’s words from before, he adds on, “you’re the weirdest Gryffindor I’ve ever met.”

Minho beams. “Thanks, I aim to be!”

Chan snorts, then, and Minho smirks in response. Although, he’s a little curious about something—

“You’ve known me for barely two weeks. How would you know I’ll make an okay Head Boy?” 

“You’re Bang Chan,” Minho begins. For a moment, Chan finds himself waiting in fear; usually, this is where people start lauding him in praise, so much that it just feels unreal. 

But then all Minho adds on with is, “and you remember Dori. That makes you _way_ better Head Boy material than, for example, Kim Seungmin.”

Minho’s comparison takes him by surprise, so much that Chan dissolves into giggles. “Would I be even better Head Boy material if I remembered the names of your other cats?” 

“Of course,” Minho instantly says, grinning a little. “If you remember all three of them, then I’d wager your chances of ruining Hogwarts would fall to about only forty percent!”

“Well then,” Chan smiles back. “What are we waiting for?”

  
  


Chan doesn’t really know how long they’ve talked for, but it’s long enough for the originally bright, blue sky to start taking on warm orange hues. 

He learns about Minho’s cats, all three of them; Soonie, Doongie, and Dori ( _the one I rescued from the tree,_ Minho had reminded), and how they all came to join his little family, back in Korea. He learns about Minho’s family ( _yeah, I’m Muggle-born, but that only makes me better because I get the best of both worlds and you don’t_ ), and chuckles at all his little renditions of how he came to meet his group of friends at Hogwarts. 

He learns that Minho isn’t really _that_ weird of a Gryffindor after all. 

“Hey, Chan-hyung, do you see that?”

“What?” Chan mumbles. He’s a little sleepy, from lying down too much, and squints as he tries to follow where Minho’s pointing.

“ _That,”_ Minho repeats, gesturing towards the goalpost hoops at the edge of the field. He’s on his feet now, and Chan clambers to catch up.

Soon he sees what Minho is pointing at.

Changbin’s plushie, affixed to the tallest hoop.

They stare at the last item on their list, way out of reach for either of them. And then back at each other, similar looks of disbelief etched across their faces.

“I don’t think we can get that organically,” Chan says.

Minho snickers. “Yeah, no way. Show me your best _Accio,_ pure-blooded gremlin-hyung!”

  
  


(Unlike the first request with Seungmin, Minho had offered to deliver the items to their second customer.

“You don’t know what Changbin looks like,” he’d reasoned, with a tiny smile as he plucked the plushie off Chan’s hands. “Don’t want to lose these things a second time.”

“You have so much faith in me,” Chan sarcastically grinned, then.

Minho had rolled his eyes, then grinned. “Of course! Why else would I have made you my business partner?”)

  
  


✧

  
  


> **_Errand:_ ** _Charm all of Seungmin-hyung’s quills so he only writes weird shit for a week ❤️_
> 
> **_From (Name/Year/House):_ ** _Jeongin/2/Ravenclaw_
> 
> **_Price:_ ** _My gratitude_

Chan raises an eyebrow, looking back up at Minho after he reads the new errand. “Are you sure you’re actually making profits?” 

“I was gonna reject it,” Minho shrugs, as he pockets the enchanted note. “But because it’s Jeongin, _and_ he’s also suggesting to ruin Kim Seungmin’s week, so.”

“Seungmin was your first customer, Minho.”

“So? That doesn’t give him special rights.”

Chan sighs. Minho grins, and Chan would’ve shuddered at the catty, slightly demonic smile if not for the childlike glee radiating off Minho in waves. 

He sighs again. “You already know what you’re gonna charm his quills with?” 

Apparently Chan asked the correct question, because Minho’s eyes light up, instantly, and the sheer chaotic energy reflected in them makes Chan want to shrink into a corner and cry. 

“Yup,” if Chan thinks Minho’s smile couldn’t get more sinister, he’s wrong, because it does, “and I don’t really fancy sneaking into the dungeons again so that’s where you come in.”

“Me?” Chan gawks, pointing at himself. 

“Yes, you,” Minho says, placing a firm hand on his shoulder; and this is where Chan feels his resolve dissipating, not that he had any in the first place. “You’ll do it, right, Channie-hyung?”

  
  


“This is emotionally manipulative,” Chan grumbles to himself, still thinking about what Minho just _did._ He’s rummaging through Seungmin’s drawers, and he’s even looked under his bed, but it seems like the fellow Slytherin already knew what was coming, because Chan can’t find a _single_ one of the boy’s quills. 

And Chan _knows_ Seungmin has a lot of quills; heck, he’s sat through an hour of Seungmin excitedly sharing his quill collection and detailing exactly what each quill did.

“This is extremely emotionally manipulative.”

Hwang Hyunjin, another third-year that shares the same dormitory room, looks up lazily from the magazine that he was flipping through. “What is?” 

“Hyunjin,” Chan straightens up, putting his search task aside as he looks the blonde in the eye. “Hyunjin, tell me honestly. Am I really that easy?”

Hyunjin sits up straight now, interested. “In what sense, hyung? Like the _person_ sense, or like sex—”

Chan lets out a strangled scream. Hyunjin screams back in shock, jumping.

“The _person_ sense, obviously! Why would you think of… of…”

“Someone trying to get under your robes, hyung?” Hyunjin smiles, all sickly sweet and demonic, almost like a certain someone else, as he leans forward on his bedframe. “Need advice?”

Chan grits his teeth. “Answer the question, Hyunjin.”

“You’re boooooring,” Hyunjin whines, rolling his eyes, slinking back down. “And _yes,_ hyung, you’re easy. If anyone wants to get you to do something, all they have to do is call you _Chan-hyung._ Actually, is that your kink or something? Being called Chan-hyung?” 

Chan reaches into his robes; Hyunjin instantly yelps, throwing his hands up in surrender. “Wait, I’m sorry Chan-hyung! You’re the best, Chan-hyung! I love you, Chan-hyung! Please don’t jinx me! Chan-hyung!”

“At least you have some self-preservation tendencies,” Chan mutters, pulling his empty hand back out. He pushes his sleeves back up to his elbows and squats down again, preparing to resume his search for Seungmin’s stupid quills.

“I meant it, though. You hardly say no to anyone who considers you their hyung.”

“I know,” Chan frowns. There’s nothing under Seungmin’s blankets, either.

“And, hyung?” Hyunjin barely spares him another glance as he picks up his magazine again. “Whatever you’re looking for, they’re all in his pillowcase.”

  
  


Seungmin comes up to him in the common room the next day, parchment in his hand and annoyance etched across his features.

“Did you do this?” He thrusts the inked parchment right in front of Chan’s face. 

Chan squints at the writing; it looks like the usual Ancient Runes essay, except all of the ‘ _l’_ s are replaced with ‘ _w’_ s. He snorts at one word hastily written in the corner of the parchment, definitely to confirm that there was something wrong with the quill— _hewwo,_ in Seungmin’s neat scrawl.

“I didn’t,” Chan says, and he’s not lying, because he’s not the one who charmed them, per se, but he can’t stop himself from giggling whenever he sees the _hewwo_ in the corner.

Seungmin scowls, unimpressed. “Did you _help_ in making these happen? For _all_ my quills? Hyung, what the _hell, stop laughing!”_

Chan snickers, “Seungmin, I didn’t take you as a very _hewwo_ type of person.” 

“Hyung!” Seungmin’s stomping his feet on the floor now, voice drawn out in a long whine, as he pouts petulantly. This doesn’t really help his case, because he just looks like a drenched, upset puppy now, and Chan has to try very hard to not laugh at him. “ _Hyung,_ I have assignments due this week!”

“Okay, and?” Chan presses his lips into a line in an attempt to shut up.

“I need quills that actually allow me to write. Please? Chan-hyung?”

_Sigh._

Needless to say, Chan ended up lending Seungmin some of his own uncharmed quills.

  
  


(Minho’s face had lit up when Chan brought him all of Seungmin’s quills, where they had agreed to meet by the base of the Astronomy Tower, before Seungmin would return to his dorms after his lessons.

“Not sure if Jeongin’s gratitude is worth Seungmin’s wrath for a week,” Chan had joked. Minho’s eyes widened in fascination as he examined some of the quills. 

“These are so expensive,” Minho had observed, picking up a teal-coloured one, tipped with gold, raising it up against the moonlight. “I wonder what this one does?”

“That one prints out full definitions of each word you write,” Chan automatically replied, remembering Seungmin’s detailed explanation.

“Kim Seungmin is gonna be so mad pissed,” Minho said gleefully, pulling out his wand. “Channie-hyung, you’re the best!”

_Oh._

Chan couldn’t help but think that the slightly fluttery feeling he got as he watched Minho charm the quills, soft pink light illuminating his face as he giggled away, might have been something more than fear.) 

  
  


✧

> **_Errand:_ ** _i am so sorry but the giant squid got all my stationery and i can’t get it back myself please help me?_
> 
> **_From (Name/Year/House):_ ** _jisung, you know which one_
> 
> **_Price:_ ** _a kiss from me to you <3 _
> 
> _meet at 10am or ill go by myself!_
> 
> _— meowdad_

Or, maybe it _was_ fear. And the business model really isn’t working out.

Chan barely managed to make it to the Giant Lake on time, only seeing Minho’s message minutes before the stated meeting time. “What the _fuck,_ Minho?”

Minho looks up from where he’s standing at the edge of the lake, toeing the surface of it with his bare feet, his boots and socks discarded behind him. 

He shoots Chan a dazzling smile and waves with his free arm, the other having a suspicious-looking container tucked under it. “Good _what the fuck_ to you too, Chan!”

Chan rests his hands on his knees, bending over and tries to catch his breath. “Were you seriously about to go into the lake? By _yourself?”_

Minho blinks at him, and then his eyes roll up for a moment, showing his whites; Chan had learnt very quickly that this was a sign of Minho trying to think. And that when it happens, it usually doesn’t lead to very favourable conclusions.

He’s proven right when Minho snaps out of his reverie and smirks, “I didn’t even think of that, but now I’m considering!”

“I seriously can’t tell if you’re just like this or you’re being chaotic on purpose,” Chan mutters under his breath.

“Did you say something?”

Chan straightens up. “I said, we are _not_ going into the Great Lake to retrieve those lost stationeries from the _Giant_ fucking _Squid._ Especially not you.”

Minho feigns a look of offense. “Why, is it because I’m a lowly Gryffindor?”

Chan gapes. And then he facepalms so hard that the sound of him smacking his own face echoes a little amongst the trees. It hurts, a little. “Wh— no! It’s because it’s dangerous, Minho, what the hell?”

“Yeah, but I can’t miss out on Jisungie’s free kiss,” Minho casually states. 

_Oh._ Now it hurts a little more. “You like this Jisung or something?”

Once again, there’s no hesitation when Minho says, “no, Jisung is the one who likes _me.”_

Chan’s head hurts. “And you would lead him on by letting him kiss you?”

Minho looks confused. Then he looks horrified. And then terrified. And he yells, taking a step back, “what the _fuck,_ Chan-hyung, not in _that_ way! Ew! What are you even imagining?”

Chan yells back, equally terrified, stepping forwards. “You and your friends just kiss for fun?!”

“You don’t kiss your friends for fun?!”

“No— I mean, would you kiss me for fun?”

“Of course!” Minho hollers, without a second thought, as though _kissing Chan-hyung for fun_ was a given to him.

Whatever happens next happens so quickly that Chan doesn’t even have time to react; but at the same time the moment Minho loses his footing seems to run in slow motion— Chan sees Minho stumble, sees the way his eyes widen in shock, fear, hears him scream— and then he disappears into the lake with a resounding splash.

“Minho!” He gets on all fours, and tries to peer into the lake; the water is still rippling, and Chan thinks for a moment that _everything is fine, Minho can probably swim, he’s going to resurface anytime soon—_

And the rippling stops. The lake surface turns eerily still. 

_Minho can’t swim._

That one, single thought overrides any other instincts of self-preservation he had at the moment, and Chan immediately dives into the lake after him.

It’s cold, and terribly dark.

For a brief moment, Chan wonders if this is _it_ for them. 

Then something within him snaps, and the next thing he remembers is resurfacing, gasping for air, hauling Minho’s cold and limp body out of the lake. 

Chan hovers for a moment, robes soaked and dripping and completely unsure of how to even _help_ as every spell he’s learnt in the past six years simply evades him. 

In his desperation, he suddenly remembers his younger sister making him watch some video on how Muggles resuscitate each other. 

_They kinda like pump the other person’s chest,_ he recalls her saying. _And then blow air to them using their mouths._

He launches into it, trying to copy the actions that he remembers seeing, chest pumps, and then breaths; and as he presses his lips against Minho’s, all he can think of is _we should’ve never bickered like idiots at the lake’s edge._

When nothing happens, Chan starts cursing himself; he should’ve alerted someone, anyone, or brought him to the hospital wing, or, or—

And then Minho twitches. 

“Minho?” Chan breathes out, hands hovering above, in fear that he’s doing more harm than good. 

The relief that crashes through his body when Minho starts coughing up water is so _immense_ that Chan falls back, suddenly feeling dizzy and tired, adrenaline rapidly draining by the second. 

“I—” Minho chokes out, water dribbling out his mouth as he convulses and rolls over. “I— I can’t—”

“What? Are you okay? Can you hear me? Can you breathe—”

Minho convulses a little more, and then, to Chan’s sheer mortification, he realises that the Gryffindor is _laughing._

“I’m going to have to rate that a solid one out of five, hyung. Needs practice,” Minho manages to say, all the while still cackling, as Chan fumbles onto his feet in peak embarrassment.

 _Mum, I want to go home,_ is the only thought running through his head afterwards.

“Oh my fucking God,” Chan wails, as he speedwalks away at a pace matching the speed of how quickly his ears are turning red. “I— I quit!”

“You can’t,” Minho sing-songs, as he runs after him, carrying his soaked and dripping robes in his arms. “The Wormcat Delivery Service is forever!”

  
  


Unlike Minho, who somehow recovers without much issues after getting checked up in the hospital wing, Chan is the one who ends up fighting a losing battle against his runny nose, and even develops a fever the next day. 

He checks himself into the hospital wing with some amount of shame and embarrassment, and then promptly falls asleep the moment his head hits the pillow.

Some time later, Chan wakes up to the sound of Minho’s voice.

“My, this certainly reminds me of our first meeting, Chan-hyung!”

“Minho?” Chan says groggily, squinting at the figure sitting at his bedside as he tries to prop himself up on his elbows. “What are you—” 

A damp cloth falls from his face to his chest, and he stares at it, confused. “What’s this?”

Minho picks up the fallen cloth, dips it into a bowl of water beside him, wrings the towel dry and then smacks it right back onto Chan’s forehead. “Proven Muggle method for getting rid of fevers! In honour of you using proven Muggle methods to save someone!”

Chan groans, unpleasant memories suddenly resurfacing. “Don’t remind me, please. And don’t you have class?”

“Class would love to have me,” Minho replies cheerfully. 

“Then go,” Chan whines in exasperation. When it’s clear Minho isn’t going to leave, he adds, for good measure, “I’m going back to sleep, so go to class, _please.”_

Minho actually pouts as Chan dramatically lies back down and pulls up his blankets around him.

When he closes his eyes, he hears Minho quietly say, “thanks for saving me, hyung. I really appreciate it.”

  
  


(“Jisung really doesn’t deserve all these fancy new stuff,” Minho had pouted, again, when they managed to cobble together a sizeable collection of stationery from their own stashes.

“We are _not_ going near the Great Lake anytime soon,” Chan had emphasised, as he placed the last quill into the bag and pulls the drawstring shut. “Especially when you don’t even know how to swim!”

“I forgot,” Minho’s pout intensified. Chan avoided looking in his direction. “I don’t go around just thinking, _oh shit, I can’t swim,_ okay?”

“By the way, I’m sorry about your container,” Chan said, recalling Minho holding something before he fell into the lake. “I hope it’s nothing important.”

“Hmm? Oh! That was just a sandwich for the Squid.”

Chan thought he was hearing things. “A _what_ for the Squid?”

“Sandwich,” Minho repeated. “I heard that if you feed the Squid some kind of food it’ll be friendly with you! Wait, that’s literally Changbin.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Thanks,” Minho beamed. “I only ever try my best to be!”)

  
  


✧

  
  


As the semester passed, Chan gradually found himself getting swarmed by a horde of never-ending assignments; he’d expected it, with the sixth year at Hogwarts being the transition to N.E.W.T level classes— but he ends up not checking the enchanted note as frequently as he used to. 

Minho had started using the note as a little communication device, and would write down random happenings during his day. Sometimes, he’d just doodle a weird, wrinkly stickman. 

And Chan would return the favour by drawing a little worm back, something he’d created in honour of Minho saying he resembles a worm.

 _Cute!!!!,_ Minho had written beside it once. And then he’d drawn his wrinkly-face character over it, effectively destroying Chan’s drawing.

Recently, though, Minho hadn’t written much on the note, and Chan gradually stops checking it as often. 

They’re both getting too busy for random little errands, was what he concluded. 

That’s up until Seungmin pokes his head through his dorm’s door, while he was figuring out how to end his essay on human Transfiguration. “Hyung, there’s a Hufflepuff looking for you.”

Chan perks up, shoving his essay aside, glad for the short distraction. “Who?” 

“Lee Felix, from my year, if you know him?”

Chan doesn’t, but he _has_ heard of him. He knows he’s one of Minho’s friends, and that Minho had described him as _a little freckled kitten that likes to follow me around._

He finds the third-year Hufflepuff toeing off dirt from the floor along the Slytherin dungeons. “Felix?”

The boy looks up then, and Chan’s momentarily blown away by how pixie-like he is; from his light lavender hair, to the dusting of freckles across his cheeks, his little button nose, and big, round eyes glinting in worry.

“Hello, Chan,” Felix greets, and before Chan can ask him what’s wrong, he immediately follows-up with, “we need your help.”

> **_Errand:_ ** _fuck you and your stupid mudblood friend lee felix_
> 
> **_From (Name/Year/House):_ **
> 
> **_Price:_ ** _fuck out of here, go home_

Chan should’ve checked the note more often. 

_He’s okay,_ Felix had reassured him, as he led Chan towards the Gryffindor Tower. _It’s just, he won’t come out, or go to the hospital wing or anything, and we all tried coaxing him._

Chan was silent the whole time, barely repressing the anger that was slowly boiling within.

“I feel bad,” Felix confesses, eyebrows furrowed in guilt, as they come to a stop in front of the Fat Lady’s portrait. “The jinx was meant for me, I should’ve taken it.”

“No,” Chan snaps, then, grabbing the Hufflepuff’s wrist. Felix startles, but manages to match his gaze. “You shouldn’t even be the target of a jinx. If anything, _they_ are the ones who deserve one.”

Felix gives him a wobbly smile. “Thanks. The password is _ubi vermis.”_

The Fat Lady lets them in, but not without commenting about the recent increase in the number of vermins trespassing the Gryffindor Tower.

“We’ll be really fast, ma’m, promise,” Felix responds, even bowing to the Fat Lady who simply huffs at him, and Chan makes a mental note to take this boy under his wing.

They’re almost immediately greeted by a squirrel-looking boy on the other side, who introduces himself as Jisung, and for one moment, Chan nearly lashes out at him for endangering Minho with the Giant Squid errand, but stops himself when he notices Jisung worrying his bottom lip bloody with his teeth.

“Stop that,” he frowns. 

“Ah,” Jisung releases his lip from his teeth-prison, frowning back. “Sorry, I do that a lot when I’m nervous. Please help us, Minho’s Chan-hyung.”

 _Minho’s Chan-hyung._ “What can I do?”

“I’d honestly say maybe hunt down the gremlins who did this to him and then turn them into worms—”

Felix cuts in here, gasping, “ _Jisung!”_

“—but our kind little Felix here won’t have it, so maybe you could try convincing him to come out and eat something? And that he’s a beautiful man, it doesn’t matter what’s on his face.”

“Gotcha on all of that,” Chan replies coolly, barely noticing the way the two third-years look at him in awe. They come to a stop in front of a closed door, and for the first time, Chan finally notices just how _red_ the interior of the Gryffindor Tower is.

He places a hand on the door handle, which was cold, _startling_ cold, and then opens it.

The dorm was empty, save for one huddled figure in the bed tucked by the corner. “Jisung, I already told you I won’t—”

“Minho.”

The huddled figure jumps. And then it shifts, a little, until Chan can barely make out a pair of eyes staring back at him.

“What are you doing here?” Minho’s voice, muffled under layers.

“Same reason as you did back then in the Slytherin dungeons,” Chan responds, closing the door behind him. He starts making his way towards Minho. “I have a job.” 

“Ah,” Minho blinks at him, then lies back down. “Sorry, I’m useless right now. I can’t help.”

“Not really. See, I got an errand from Jisung _and_ Felix to get you out of here and eat something.”

Minho turns over, pulling his blankets up over him. “I’m not doing it.” 

“You’d let our Wormcat Delivery Service fail here?”

A long silence. Then a frustrated sigh. Followed by an equally frustrated yell; then Minho surfaces from his blankets, glaring, but his eyes and nose are swollen red.

Then Chan sees it.

Red, angry boils scattered all across Minho’s pretty features, spelling out _MUDBL—_ Chan shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath.

When he opens them again, Minho’s back in his swaddle of blankets, but this time his glare is directed at the ground and his eyes are filling with tears.

He has to dig his nails deep into his palm to physically restrain himself from lashing out; _stay calm, Bang Chan._

“Who did this?” 

“Not telling you,” Minho mutters, swiping his tears away bitterly. “You look like you’re going to kill someone.”

 _Damn right I will._ Chan remains silent. 

“Sorry,” Minho mumbles again, pulling up his blankets even further up around him. “This errand is going to be a fail. You can leave now.” 

“I’m not—” Chan starts, but then falls silent when he catches familiar shades of green draped against the warm reds of Minho’s headboard. 

For a moment, it almost feels as though Minho had stuck his hand through his chest, and squeezed at his heart; and for a short while, Chan saw something else other than the red of anger.

“You’re still keeping this,” he notes, quietly, reaching out and grabbing his Slytherin scarf.

Minho doesn’t even bother looking over. “What, was I supposed to throw it away?”

“Of course not,” Chan replies smoothly, and with one swift motion, tugs away the blankets that Minho’s using as a protective shield. He makes sure to look at Minho straight in the eyes, and nowhere else.

Minho flounders, hands grabbing at air, having being caught off-guard. “Give—”

“I don’t think I’ve introduced myself properly to you before, but hi, I’m Bang Chan, Slytherin Head Boy wannabe.”

Chan observes the way Minho’s expression morphs from shock to incredulousness. 

“Okay, Bang Chan,” he sputters, hands still reached out. “Give it back.”

Chan ignores him as he chucks the blankets behind him, far enough that Minho can’t reach unless he physically shoves him out of the way, continuing with his little speech. “And if there’s something that you should know about me, it’s that I’ve never once failed anything in my life. Except for that one out of five kiss rating.”

At that, Minho snorts, but doesn’t move from his spot. 

“And I don’t intend to add on to it.” 

With that, he loops the scarf around Minho’s neck again, just like he did the second time they met. Only this time, Minho isn’t amused, or in shock, or filled with awe-like wonder. 

His shoulders are slumped in defeat; there’s barely a fraction of the boy who dived into the Great Lake despite not knowing how to swim, or the boy who’d excitedly recounted stories about his cats under the vast, infinite sky. 

And while Chan gently tightens the knot around the loop, pulling it up so it sufficiently hides half of Minho’s face, he has to remind himself that _this is also Lee Minho._

Minho, in this state, isn’t something that should need ‘fixing’, but Chan just wants to chip away at the aura of defeat he has weighing upon his shoulders.

“There,” he says, patting at the completed knot. Minho doesn’t budge. “Now you’re going to be a good boy, and walk out of that door, and get some late lunch with Jisung and Felix.”

Silence. Chan continues holding his breath. More than a few seconds pass. 

Then Minho begrudgingly swings his legs to the edge of his bed, and pushes himself up. He wobbles a little on his feet, when he first gets up, but Chan is already there with a hand to hold him steady.

“How’d you know I don’t secretly want this business to fail?” Minho grumbles, shuffling towards the door. He’s gripping onto Chan’s hand, tightly.

“I have faith in you,” is what Chan says, as he brings his other hand to clasp Minho’s in both of his. “Why else would I have agreed to be your business partner?”

Even though half of his face is covered, Chan can still imagine the small smile that cracked through, from the little curve of Minho’s eyes. 

  
  


While Minho refused to tell him the name of the bastard who jinxed him, Jisung is all too happy to provide the details, as they huddle at a corner of the Gryffindor common room, leaving out Minho who’s glaring at their turned backs.

“You won’t kill them right, hyung?” Felix whispers, eyes wide.

Jisung lets out a scandalised gasp as he elbows the Hufflepuff, “you can’t just go around calling anyone your hyung, Lix!”

“Why not?” Felix hisses, elbowing him back, “he’s Minho-hyung’s hyung!”

Jisung’s about to bite back when Chan raises a hand, silencing them both. “It’s fine, y’all can call me hyung if you want. And yes, Felix, I won’t kill them. Hopefully. Can y’all make sure Minho actually eats a proper meal?”

The two third-years straighten their backs, and Jisung even gives him a salute as he yells, “yes, Chan-hyung!”

  
  


_It was Yang Hyunsuk and his cronies, y’know, the gang of seventh-year snakes— oh, shit, sorry, you’re a snake too, wait, no— you know what I mean. You might know them?_

Chan does. And finding them wasn’t at all difficult, because those _snakes,_ as Jisung had dubbed, frequently occupied the same spot in their common room, right in front of the fireplace.

Chan wasn’t scared of them, though a lot of younger Slytherins were; but he’d never had a reason to waste his time on them, not until now.

As Chan approaches, one of them stands up and holds a hand out. “Hey, not here. Get lost.”

“I’m here to talk to Yang,” Chan says calmly, gesturing at their leader sprawled across a couch meant for four, all by himself. 

“You don’t get to decide—”

“Bang Chan,” Hyunsuk catches onto the commotion, slowly getting up, wearing an ugly, mocking smirk on his face. “ _The_ Bang Chan wants to talk to me? Wow, I’m honoured.”

Chan maintains an expressionless look, ignoring Hyunsuk’s taunt. “Why did you do that to Minho?”

Hyunsuk frowns. “Who’s Minho? 

“The— the—” He can’t bring himself to say it; no, he _won’t_ say it. 

Chan’s hesitance seemingly rings a bell in Hyunsuk’s head, because the seventh-year’s eyes widen, just for a little bit, before he sneers, “oh, your little Mudblood boyfriend?”

He doesn’t respond. 

He doesn’t blink, doesn’t frown, or glare, or do anything. Because Chan knows that if he does anything else other than stay very fucking still in this moment, he might break his little promise with Felix.

“What?” Hyunsuk sniggers. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Y’know,” Chan starts off, coldly. “I originally thought worms were quite important to our planet. But I guess I was wrong.”

Hyunsuk’s face contorts in confusion. “What? Dude, speak English, not Muggle, have you been diseased—”

Red. The red from the curtains in the Gryffindor Tower. Red from the blood on Jisung’s lips; red from Minho’s blanket, red from Minho’s eyes. All Chan sees is _red,_ when he pulls out his wand and hollers, “ _VERMICULUS!”_

  
  


(Chan had nearly broken down the door to Minho’s dorm when he burst through the Gryffindor Tower the second time that day.

“Chan-hyung?” Minho had jumped, startled by his noisy entrance. 

Chan had beamed when he saw how Minho was still sporting his Slytherin scarf; the boils on his face were more or less gone, but there was still some scarring— but he was glad to see that Minho had gotten some treatment for the jinx. 

“I got detention for the first time in all my six years here!” Chan finally announced, then, grinning.

Minho gaped. “Wh— why are you so happy? What did you do?”

“Turned a guy into a worm,” Chan simply shrugged, and smirked. “He deserved it.”

“That’s,” Minho’s jaw dropped. Then he’d started laughing, “that’s— that’s not very Head Boy of you, hyung.”

And as Chan cracked up too, he finally came to the realisation that he’d turn anything into a worm just to protect Minho’s smile.)

  
  


✧

  
  


It all starts with some stupid tea leaves.

Im Nayeon, a fellow sixth-year from Slytherin, and probably one of his closer friends, leans over to glance over at his teacup, and then positively squeals. “A sun, meaning great happiness, ooh, and an anchor, which means good luck in business _and_ love!” 

“What,” Chan squints at his cup. All he sees are some grimy tea leaves. “I don’t see any of that?”

“That means you’re in denial,” Nayeon says, matter-of-factly, putting her teacup down and pulling out her own battered copy of their Divination textbook. 

“What can I possibly be in denial about, Nayeon?” 

“Out of those three things, it’s most likely love?” Nayeon concludes, lips twisting into a pretty smirk. “Who’s the lucky one, Channie?”

“There’s no lucky one,” Chan shoots back, grumbling, reaching over for the pot of water to rinse out his cup. “There isn’t,” he repeats, even though a certain person appears in his thoughts. 

  
  


Then it continues with a stupid crystal ball.

“I think I’m seeing a… figure?” Kim Mingyu from Gryffindor tries, peering so closely at Chan’s crystal ball that Chan’s pretty sure he’s just seeing the condensation of his breath on the glass. “Or two figures? And they’re… um… intertwined?”

Chan knows almost as well as Mingyu that he’s bullshitting his way through the demonstration to gain some points with their Divination professor, who looks extremely enamoured with Mingyu’s ‘sight’.

Professor Minatozaki clasps her hands together and sighs dreamily, “that’s a sure sign of budding romance, if I’ve ever seen one! How lucky you are, Chan!”

Chan smiles through the pain while Mingyu tries hard to not laugh at his suffering. He aims a kick at Mingyu under the table.

  
  


And finally, Chan concludes that the only things he’ll ever see out of his Divination classes are bad things.

“Hey, Jinsol,” he calls out to the Ravenclaw next to him, who hums in response. “What does it mean if I’m seeing something like an arrow?”

“Which way is the arrow pointing?” Jinsol asks, holding her hands out, jet black irises accompanying her piercing gaze. 

Chan slides his teacup over to her in response, and watches as she hunches over it, permed black hair falling all over her face.

“Damn,” is all she says, when she looks back up and sweeps her hair out of her face.

Chan is tired. “What does it mean, Jinsol? What does it _mean?”_

She lifts his teacup and tilts it slightly at him, and Chan peers warily at the tea leaves again. Nothing’s changed. He still sees an arrow.

“Cloudy arrow pointing at yourself,” Jinsol says ominously. Chan shrinks into his chair. “That’s a sign of incoming bad news.”

Screw Divination. Chan hates Divination.

  
  


✧

  
  


Hwang Hyunjin was bad news.

Chan had always known that ever since Hyunjin spilled pumpkin soup onto Chan’s lap the first time they met, years ago— being a first-year back then, Hyunjin had been terrified, and apologised profusely while shaking. 

Chan forgave him. Then they became friends. 

A few weeks later, Hyunjin accidentally misfired a spell, and gave Chan buck teeth. Then there was a time where he turned Chan’s only pair of shoes into toads, leaving him to walk barefooted for a day. Or when he tried to remove the frizz from Chan’s hair but ended up removing his hair entirely.

And most recently, where Hyunjin had tripped on some stairs and grabbed onto the nearest thing he could (Chan’s robes), sending them hurtling down the stairs and causing Chan to break his arm.

And then he pretty much concludes definitively that Hyunjin is a walking magnet for bad news.

Bad news for _Chan,_ specifically.

When Hyunjin comes screaming to him, Chan’s not even surprised anymore. “There’s a _what_ in your drawer?” 

“A Boggart,” Hyunjin whines, pulling onto Chan’s sleeve and shaking him. “Please, hyung, help me get rid of it, it keeps turning into this _huge,_ disgusting, hairy, gross, ugly spider whenever I open the drawer—”

“Why don’t you get Professor Im to help?” Chan sighs, referring to their Defence Against The Dark Arts professor and allowing himself to be shaken. “If there’s a Boggart on the loose, it’ll be better for actual adults to take care of it, no?”

“I smuggled Firewhisky in and they’re all in that drawer,” Hyunjin wails, releasing his grip from Chan and now running his hands down his face dramatically. “I can’t afford to get _more_ detention, the Hogsmeade trip is in two weeks!”

“Then live with the Boggart in your drawer, Hyunjin. You can be friends with it.” 

“Chan-hyung,” Hyunjin snivels, but Chan knows much better now. He will _not_ fall for what Hyunjin previously clowned him for. “Chan-hyung!”

  
  


Turns out Chan doesn’t actually know much better, because Hyunjin absolutely outplays him.

The next day, Minho finds him in the hallway outside Divination; the boils on his face from before have faded, but Chan can still see some scars peeking out from how haphazardly the boy covered them with Muggle makeup. 

“Hey,” Chan greets him with a wave. “Everything okay?”

“Great,” Minho answers, then raises an eyebrow and waggles the enchanted note in front of Chan. “What’s this about?”

> **_Errand:_ ** _Chan-hyung I know you’re absolutely whipped so you’ll do this if I write it here PLEASE GET RID OF THE BOGGART IN MY DRAWER PLEASE_
> 
> **_From (Name/Year/House):_ ** _Hwang Hyunjin, 3, Slytherin_
> 
> **_Price:_ ** _Hyunjin will give you one of his_ ~~_Firewhis_ ~~ _stuff_

_Hwang Hyunjin, I swear to God._

He takes a moment to close his eyes, pinch his nose, and hopes the Boggart in Hyunjin’s drawer drinks all his Firewhisky. 

Then he opens his eyes again, meeting Minho’s expectant gaze, and pointedly says, “no.”

One corner of Minho’s lips turns upwards in a wry smile. “For once, I’m inclined to agree with you.” 

“That’s great, then, we should—”

“But,” Minho cuts him off, the wry smile turning into a smirk. “Someone did tell me that if there’s something I should know about him, it’s that he’s never failed in his life before.”

Blood rushes to his face and Chan simply stands there, sputtering in embarrassment.

“What? You said it yourself,” Minho teases, and then lowers his voice in a poor imitation of Chan, “ _and I don’t intend to add on to it,_ or something.”

“I regret choosing to be nice to all of you,” Chan says solemnly, then turns in the other direction and starts walking away. 

“Also, I’m _really_ curious about what Hyunjin wrote here,” Minho calls out gleefully, following after him. “Explain, please?”

  
  


Minho ends up following Chan all the way back to the Slytherin dungeons, taking skips in his step while humming an odd, disjointed melody. 

“So we’re getting rid of that Boggart today, I see,” Minho chirps, peering at the nondescript stone wall in front of them. “Are we going to do it? Are we going in?” 

“ _I_ am going in,” Chan says, steering the boy away from the wall. “And _you_ are going to go back to your own common room.”

Minho pouts. “That’s not fun!”

“Getting rid of a Boggart isn’t fun either, Minho! Do you know what it _does?”_

“Of course I know,” Minho frowns, crossing his arms. “They turn into your worst fear, right? That’s not fun, yeah, but what makes it fun is that we’re getting rid of it _together.”_

Whatever Chan had planned to say next abruptly dies in his throat. Minho blinks at him expectantly. 

“Do whatever you want,” Chan eventually says, hoarsely, as he turns back to the stone wall and mutters the password.

  
  


(Hyunjin doesn’t even take more than a second to gleefully escape his own dorm when he spots Chan coming in, Minho trailing behind; on his way out, he mouths out something obscene to Chan, then runs off before Chan can respond.

_Hwang._

_Hyun._

_Jin._

Forget his previous wish about that Boggart drinking all of Hyunjin’s Firewhisky stash. Chan will do that himself.)

  
  


“It’s in this drawer?” Minho whispers, voice muffled by Chan’s Slytherin scarf wrapped snugly around his shoulders and lower face, peering at Hyunjin’s bedside drawer. 

“Yeah.” 

“No offense, but it doesn’t even look nice.”

Chan snorts. “I don’t think the Boggart chose Hyunjin’s drawer because it’s _nice._ It’s probably because Hyunjin is so scared of everything, he’s literally fear personified.”

“That’s a Boggart with no standards, then,” Minho comments, and this makes Chan laugh— loud enough for the drawer to start rattling.

“I think that’s our cue,” Chan mutters, placing a hand on the drawer handle, clutching his wand with the other. The metal is chilly, and Chan involuntarily shudders; although he’s not sure if it’s from the cold touch or from the fear and apprehension starting to pool in his gut. “Ready?”

“No,” Minho replies, pulling out his own wand. 

“On three,” Chan says, grip tightening around the handle. “ _Riddikulus_ on one.” 

Minho nods, pointing his wand straight at the drawer.

“Three, two, one—” 

Chan yanks the drawer open, and the rattling stops. 

“ _Riddikul—”_

Minho doesn’t finish saying the incantation; his eyes are wide, pupils shaking, and he looks more confused than scared, but he’s frozen, hand still outstretched, wand still pointing. 

Chan tears his gaze away from a dazed Minho; then he sees it.

A chill runs down his spine when he sees _Minho,_ dressed in a mint green sweater and black jeans— _Muggle clothes—_ staring down _Minho,_ in his school robes, wearing Chan’s scarf.

“What,” Chan gapes, “why is it _you?”_

“I—” 

Minho doesn’t get a chance to respond when the other Minho morphs; Minho’s face peels away to reveal Jisung, then Seungmin, then Felix, then another boy, and another, and _another,_ and it’s almost like watching a broken tape changing scenes again and again and _again_ — and Minho, the real one, is fixated on it—

And then it switches into Chan.

And the Boggart doesn’t speak, the Boggart doesn’t make any sound, but it’s Chan, and this Chan pulls a disgusted scowl, and turns away from them.

Minho, seemingly in a trance, lets out a strangled cry. “Don’t—” 

“Wait,” Chan calls, throwing his arm out; this breaks Minho’s trance, and also diverts the Boggart’s attention to him.

The scowling Chan merely lasts another second, then it morphs back into the very first Minho in the mint sweater— Chan points his wand—

Minho’s face crumples in pain.

Blood starts dribbling out of his mouth, and there are tears in his eyes, and he doubles over, clutching his stomach, and he doesn’t speak, he doesn’t make any sound, but his face is contorted in a painful scream—

 _Not again_ is the only thought running in Chan’s mind as he starts to forget how to breathe—

Then someone grabs his hand, from behind. 

Chan barely turns around in time to spot the determined look on Minho’s face as he waves his wand and yells: “ _RIDDIKULUS!”_

Boggart Minho stumbles backwards, hit by the spell; and all of a sudden a wig with a bald center spot pops onto him, his nose starts running, he starts drooling and this Boggart Minho gasps in surprise, and Chan even sees one of his front teeth knocked out—

“Damn, I’m ugly,” Minho loudly comments, even though there’s still a slight tremble in his voice. “Bet this one kisses worse than one out of five.”

And Chan snorts.

Minho gives his hand a light squeeze, and when they glance at each other; he can’t really help it, honestly, Chan starts giggling and Minho shortly follows, and then they dissolve in laughter.

The Boggart shakes, and _shakes,_ and trembles, and shakes— and then it vanishes, leaving behind an empty silence as their laughter dies off, and two shaken boys, still processing what they’ve just seen.

“We should talk about that,” Chan says shakily, after a while, stumbling as he sits on Hyunjin’s bed. 

“We should,” Minho echoes emptily. 

Neither of them say anything, not for a long while; Chan continues sitting in silence, and Minho’s still staring at the open drawer, where the Boggart was. 

“Fuck,” Chan eventually says, then goes over to the drawer, yanking it fully open, Hyunjin’s smuggled bottles of Firewhisky rattling from the impact. He pulls one out.

Minho stops staring at the drawer, his attention now drawn to Chan.

“He said we can take one afterwards,” Chan explains simply, shrugging, then pops the bottle open and takes a long swig. 

It burns.

And at first it burns so hard that Chan’s throat goes numb, but after a while, the numbness fades, and he feels a little giddy, a little confident, almost as though someone had smacked him full of liquid courage.

He turns and offers the bottle to Minho. “You want some?” 

Minho blinks at him, once, grabs the Firewhisky and takes an equally long gulp.

Chan watches the way Minho immediately winces as the liquor goes down his throat, and giggles.

“Wow, that was refreshing!” Minho quips sarcastically, rubbing at his throat, but his eyes have renewed with a different sort of rigor than before, bright and strong. 

Chan snickers; Minho grins.

“So, what was yours about?”

“You saw, didn’t you? Guess I’m terrified of all of you,” Minho jokes automatically, and then he flinches when Chan rolls his eyes in response. “Ah, shit. Sorry, I’m too used to deflecting everything with jokes.”

“I can go first, if it makes you feel more comfortable,” Chan offers, “of course, you don’t have to share if you don’t want—”

“I’ll share,” Minho cuts him off, frowning. And almost as though to prove his words, he grabs the opened bottle and takes another drink. 

“Okay.” 

“That was me wearing the clothes I used to when I went to school back home,” Minho opens hesitantly.

Chan hums, to show that he’s listening. 

“I didn’t have many friends, y’know,” Minho shrugs, and Chan can tell he’s trying to keep it light, but even then there’s a bitter edge to his words, “I was seen as _weird,_ because I could see and do things other kids couldn’t. And because of that I didn’t really know how to talk or interact with people. Even when people hung out with me or invited me to things, I thought they were just pitying me.”

Chan reaches over and grabs Minho’s hand.

“And then I received the letter, and I came _here,_ and for a while it felt like _back then,_ because here I’m still the weird one— but then I met Jisung, and Seungmin, and Felix, Changbin, _you,_ and— and as much as I act like I hate all of you, I don’t know what I’ll do when you all leave.”

“ _If,”_ Chan corrects, and Minho looks at him in confusion. “ _If_ we leave. And even that doesn’t apply, because we’re not going to.”

“You don’t know if you will,” Minho says quietly, looking away.

“I won’t make promises, but I’ll try my best not to.”

Minho manages to smile a little at that. “So yeah, I guess that’s mine. Fear of loneliness. Stupidest thing ever.” 

“That’s not stupid,” Chan retorts, frowning. 

“It _is,”_ Minho insists, and Chan nearly jumps on him before he continues with, “but I don’t feel that way now. Lonely, I mean. I guess that’s why I’m really afraid of returning to the me back then.”

“And that’s not stupid at all,” Chan repeats, placing his other hand on top of Minho’s, so that he’s clasping Minho’s hand with both of his. “I hope you’ll never, ever have to feel that way again.”

“Thanks,” Minho smiles. Then he shudders, “okay, that’s enough, talking about myself feels gross. Your turn. What’s your biggest fear?”

“I guess my biggest fear is—” _Losing you,_ Chan almost says, “failing to protect the people that are really important to me.”

A small, triumphant smile appears on Minho’s face. “Aw, I’m really important to you?” 

“You must be, since I’ve done a lot of things with you that’ll make the professors think thrice when considering me as Head Boy next year,” Chan grins in return.

“Wow, I’m so honoured that I want to kiss you right now.”

“Like how you want to kiss Jisung?” Chan teases. Minho scowls and hits him with his free arm. 

He never really gets an answer, not yet, at least, because Kim Seungmin bursts through the doors then, waltzing to his own side of the dorm breezily and pretending that he hadn’t heard or seen anything.

Chan starts to understand the animosity Minho has towards his fellow Slytherin a little better.

  
  


✧

> **_Errand:_ ** _TAKE ME OUT ON A DATE_
> 
> **_From (Name/Year/House):_ ** _Lee Minho 5th year Gryffindor_
> 
> **_Price:_ ** _you get a free boyfriend :D_

Chan snorts, a little too loudly, when he reads the note in the library, earning him a few loud hushes from the librarian. The new librarian isn’t nearly as strict as the previous one, but a library is still a library, and Chan bows his head in apology.

Seated across him, Minho grins in victory.

At that, Chan grabs his quill and writes, _might have to reject this, I think the price isn’t good enough for me._

He hears Minho scoff out loud; the librarian hushes them again, and Chan has to suppress his laughter when it’s Minho’s turn to send a forced, apologetic smile over.

He watches as Minho picks up his quill, and waits for the words to appear on his note.

_What would you suggest then_

_This is a really important errand_

_I really need it to be run_

Chan can’t stop himself from smiling. He makes eye contact with Minho, makes sure the boy is looking at him, and then, with purpose, touches quill to parchment again.

**_Price:_ ** _you get a_ ~~_free_ ~~ _forever boyfriend :D_

To his credit, Minho’s expression doesn’t change, doesn’t even _budge,_ but his face turns red, starting from his ears. 

_I reject this proposal!!!!_

_What kind of proposal is in a library!!!!_

_Where’s the ring????????_

Chan has to try very hard to stop himself from laughing; he’s pressing his lips together, tightly, and his hand is shaking too hard from suppressed laughter to even write legibly.

_ok ok_

_how about this_

**_Price:_ ** ~~_you get a free forever boyfriend :D_ ~~ _you get an improved kiss rating that’s more than 1/5_

When he meets Minho’s eyes again, the Gryffindor sticks out his tongue childishly at him, but then gives Chan an _okay_ sign afterwards. 

_Deal,_ Minho mouths at him, and Chan grins.

They didn’t know it back then, but that would be the last errand the Wormcat Delivery Service ever ran— and Chan would call their short stint as the Wormcat Delivery Service an extreme success.

**Author's Note:**

> did i make y*ng hy*ns*k like 30 years younger just to turn him into a worm? yes.
> 
> i also just think about how minho said that he teases people if he wants to get close to them and how chan is so whipped for any of them that he's Tired but he still laughs and giggles at their shit and plays along
> 
> and also i was trying to find gryffindor!minho and slytherin!chan minchans but i couldn't?!?@!@ if anyone finds one PLEASE LINK IT TO ME ;________; i will love you forever.
> 
> also i apologise to whoever subbed to me hoping that i'll write more of a certain pairing sdasdsa ;___;  
> just wanted to preface that i'm personally challenging myself to write each minho ship/pairing so it'll take a while before i repeat another pairing!
> 
>  **EDIT:** i'm crying. here, [have some one out of five kiss rating minchan art](https://twitter.com/tinywaistliker/status/1324057130018590720) hanyi did
> 
>  **twt:** [@divorcedrachas](https://twitter.com/divorcedrachas)


End file.
